


Thunder In Our Hearts

by AnonBlueberry (hippydeath)



Series: Blueberry Sugar and Spice [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29700921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hippydeath/pseuds/AnonBlueberry
Summary: Geralt knew taking Jaskier to Kaer Morhen wasn't without risk, but he wasn't expecting to wake up after a forktail attack with no one willing to tell him where the bard is.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Blueberry Sugar and Spice [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2182749
Comments: 4
Kudos: 229
Collections: Sugar and Spice Witcher Bingo





	Thunder In Our Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sugar and Spice Bingo prompt: hand holding
> 
> This what I do when I'm meant to be paying attention to process mapping meetings at work.

Geralt doesn't really remember getting up the mountain. He remembers a forktail swooping for him and Jaskier as they led their horses up the trail, his Quen shattering as it hit them and searing hot pain across his spine.

Waking up is a shock. Waking up, lying on his front in a soft, clean bed, the pain in his back a line of heat and itching is not what he expected at all.

His first thought is for Jaskier, and he tries to push himself up to look around. He's pushed back down by a warm, steady hand on his shoulder.

"Steady wolf." Vesemir. Geralt relaxes back down almost by instinct. "You're both safe, but your back keeps opening up, so stop moving."

"Jaskier?" he manages to rasp out.

"Sleeping off the climb." Vesemir tells him, holding a cup of water out to him. Drinking is awkward, but it eases the dryness of his throat and the headache that he could feel around the edges of his awareness.

Sleep takes him again soon after. No doubt something in the water to keep him from moving, and the pain in his back recedes as sleep washes over him.

Time loses meaning as he sleeps and wakes and sleeps again. Lambert is there once, helps him stand to piss before dumping him back on the bed and covering his back in a foul smelling poultice, making him drink more water before he settles down with a book, on watch duty apparently. Vesemir is there a couple of times as well, but the shutters are closed and he has no notion of when he is. Each time he wakes, he asks about Jaskier, and each time, he's told the same thing; the bard is sleeping or bathing. He's too tired to pick out a lie, but he can't smell the chamomile and musk scent of the bard, and he's starting to worry. That they're just waiting for him to heal to give him the bad news.

The next time he wakes, he feels more lucid, the pain in his back finally dulling, and he pushes himself up, ignoring a painful ripping sensation near his hip, and Lambert's swearing as he uncurls from his seat to try and get Geralt to lie back down.

"Fuck sake Geralt." He holds him down, and if it were a normal man, Geralt would have no problem throwing him off, but Lambert is as much a witcher as he is, and even if Geralt has the strength normally, he's still healing now, and Lambert fights dirty to keep him pinned down. "Now you're fucking bleeding again."

Geralt ignores his rambling "Where's Jaskier?" he demands, putting as much menace as he can in his voice.

"Asleep. Like you bloody well should be." Lambert's pulled the bandages from round Geralt's waist off, and is prodding at him. "Gotta re-stitch this. Again."

"I want..." he starts, then hisses as Lambert shoves a needle through his skin.

"To see Jaskier, yeah, we know." He re-positions himself to get a better angle at the stitching. "When the lazy shit wakes up I'll drag him down here. But climbing that fucking mountain dragging you and all your shit did a number on him."

Geralt doesn't really know what to say to that. Lambert wouldn't lie to him, not like that, so he can only assume Jaskier is fine.

After a few more minutes, the stitching is done, and Lambert leans back.

"You tear those again, I'm leaving you to bleed out." He declares, washing his hands and offering Geralt more water.

He takes it, and sleep isn't far behind.

The next time he wakes, his mind is a lot clearer, and there’s so much less pain in his back. Someone, Jaskier, he hopes, is holding his hand, unconsciously tracing patterns over the back of his knuckles with a thumb. There are also voices in the room with him, mumbling at first, but as he pushes his way fully to consciousness, he can make the words out.

“... what it did, I just grabbed, threw and hoped. Figured it might at least scare it off.” Jaskier. Jaskier in story telling mode.

There’s a rumbling laugh behind him that he knows is Eskel, and a snort from Lambert who sounds further away, at the door maybe.

“Lucky you didn’t blow yourselves up.” Eskel chastises. “Did a number on it thankfully, just had to track it back and put it out of its misery.”

Jaskier makes a noise of deferral, sounding almost bashful, and Geralt can see in his mind the bard’s face.

“Jaskier?” He mumbles into the pillow, not wanting to open his eyes.

He feels the hand holding his own tighten as Jaskier reacts, “Geralt!”

There’s some movement, and Geralt opens his eyes. The shutters are still closed, but the fire is still lit and there are more candles burning now. 

“Here,” Jaskier tries to let go of his hand, but Geralt holds on tight. “Let me get some water for you.”

“‘m good,” Geralt tells him. “Help me sit up.”

“Is that wise?” Jaskier looks at Geralt and then Lambert, who just shrugs.

“Told him, if he bleeds again, I’m not sewing him up again.”

“Lambert!” Eskel throws an apple core at him, but he dodges. “Go and find some stew, and tell Vesemir he’s actually awake now.”

Geralt carefully sits himself up, finally having to let go of Jaskier to do so. He’s wearing braies, and that’s it, and his back is sore, but other than that, he doesn’t feel too awful.

“How long was I out?” he asks, scrubbing his hands through his hair.

“About a day since we got to the keep, I had to drag you for a couple of days, and please, never make me do that again.” Jaskier looks at him for a moment, then climbs onto the bed from the chair he’d been sitting in, making himself something for Geralt to lean his side on so his back doesn’t have to rest on anything. “You’ve apparently been quite desperate to see me.”

Geralt takes his hand again, leans against him and breathes in the comforting scent of his lover, “Lost track of time.” He admits, “Thought they were just stringing me along until I was well enough to hear you were dead.” His hand tightens around Jaskier’s, who runs his thumb over Geralt’s knuckles.

“Oh love,” he looks down at their hands. “I ran through your entire stock of White Raffard’s and Swallow, just to get you up here, every time you moved too much, your back opened up again.”

“Lambert had some of the good shit when Jaskier dragged you in here. You were lucky he was early for once.” Eskel tells him, “Between the toxicity and the blood loss, we thought we were going to lose you.”

Geralt slumps against Jaskier, still looking down at their joined hands. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh don’t be stupid Geralt.” Jaskier squeezes his hand. “You’d do the same for me in a heartbeat, although, granted, there’s more I could do for you to keep you alive than you could for me. But you’re fine now. And that’s what matters.” He lifts Geralt’s hand. “You have the winter to heal, and I have the winter to get to know Eskel and Lambert and Vesemir, and you have the winter to explain why at no point in the last five years, you thought to tell them that we were involved.”

Jaskier’s grip remains tight, and Geralt knows he’s pulling a face, knows it by the way Eskel is openly laughing at him, and the way Jaskier is, no matter how annoyed he sounds, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/anon_blueberry) or [Tumblr](https://anonymousblueberry.tumblr.com/), I take prompts and have dumb opinions!


End file.
